


so little time to say the things we mean

by katyfaise



Category: Les Misérables (2012), Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Cancer, Character Death, F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-08
Updated: 2013-06-08
Packaged: 2017-12-14 07:36:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/834336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/katyfaise/pseuds/katyfaise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s not hard, you know?”</p>
<p>“What isn’t?” Eponine asks, her eyes leaving the sketch Cosette was currently working on.</p>
<p>“Dying. Dying’s not hard. Why do you think the suicide rate here is twice what it is in Britain?” Cosette explains, her eyes not leaving the sketch of the bird in her notebook.</p>
<p>“Can we just not talk about this?” The brunette pleads, staring at the porcelain cheeks of the woman beside her.</p>
<p>“Living though… living is the hardest thing you can ever do.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	so little time to say the things we mean

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hayjolras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hayjolras/gifts).



“It’s not hard, you know?”

“What isn’t?” Eponine asks, her eyes leaving the sketch Cosette was currently working on.

“Dying. Dying’s not hard. Why do you think the suicide rate here is twice what it is in Britain?” Cosette explains, her eyes not leaving the sketch of the bird in her notebook.

“Can we just not talk about this?” The brunette pleads, staring at the porcelain cheeks of the woman beside her.

“Living though… living is the hardest thing you can ever do.”

—

Eponine only meets Cosette because of her newest obsession: death.

This is the fourth memorial she’s been to in two weeks and honestly this one is quite boring. But it’s relaxing and that’s all Eponine wants right now - relaxation. She surveys the room, barely listening to each speech that is given at the front. At least, until a pretty blond makes her way up to the podium - her rosy lips smiling and her cheeks flushed with happiness. She talks about the dead boy and makes the room roar with laughter. It’s just far too happy for Eponine’s liking, so she stands and stalks away. 

Hours later she sits outside of the funeral home, a cigarette hanging between her lips and dark sunglasses hiding her eyes from the sun (and the rest of the world).

“You’re not supposed to wear black to these things. People don’t appreciate black anymore.”

The voice shocks Eponine and she turns to take in the same blond she’d listened to earlier.

“Excuse me?”

“Black. People don’t really like it these days. They prefer bright colors to honor the dead,” she explains, shrugging her skinny shoulders.

Eponine glances down at her outfit - black dress, black tights, black boots on her feet - and sighs. “I don’t have any bright colors.”

When the girl approaches her, Eponine slinks away. Not soon enough, because the other girl grabs her wrist and slips a neon green bracelet on her. The color clashes horribly with the black long sleeves of her dress and Eponine stares at the other girl.

“Now you’ve got something bright. See you around.” She smiles and turns to make her leave. “I’m Cosette,” she calls from a few steps away, not bothering to turn back around. 

Eponine is in shock, floored by this blond girl with a pixie cut and who might be skinnier than she is. “Eponine.”

Cosette turns around and smiles once more before raising her hand to hail a cab. Before Eponine knows, she’s left staring at the exhaust from a cab that she should’ve chased.

—

They meet again multiple times at various memorials yet each time Eponine stalks away before Cosette gets a chance to really speak to her. Weeks later, Eponine stares in horror when the blond girl sits down beside her in the graveyard, the shade from the tree blocking the bright sun.

“Are you following me?” Eponine asks through her shock.

Cosette chuckles and empties her bag. A few juice boxes fall out (both fruit punch, Eponine notices) along with crackers and drawing utensils. She offers Eponine a juice box (which Eponine turns down because fruit punch is the worst) and then gets comfortable against the tree. With her notepad propped against her knees, she begins to sketch. 

“Why do you go to all the funerals?” Cosette questions after a deafening silence.

Eponine sighs heavily and glances down at Cosette’s sketchbook. “They relax me,” she explains. “Death relaxes me.”

“What a funny hobby.”

“Wait… you’re at all the same funerals why are you judging me?” 

“All of those people are my friends though,” Cosette points out, finally looking toward the brunette beside her. There’s no malice in her eyes and the smile on her face is warm and neutral. 

“How do you know so many dead people?” 

“Because I’m dying.” Cosette notices the look of doubt flash across Eponine’s face. “Not in a metaphorical ‘we’re all dying every day’ way. I’ve got cancer.”

“Oh.” Eponine actually tries to feel uncomfortable but she embraces this fact slowly. She watches Cosette return her attention to the sketchbook and with a sigh, she grabs a juice box and pokes the straw through.

Fruit punch is still the worst flavor ever though.

—

After that they become acquaintances (not friends, as Eponine is quick to point out when others ask about her little blond friend). They attend memorials together even though Eponine refuses to dress in bright colors and they spend their time in cafes and cemeteries. The two of them become close - Cosette explains her acute lymphocytic leukemia and how it was caught far too late in the game and Eponine reluctantly discusses why she chooses to live by the railroad tracks in a home filled to the brim with people she doesn’t even know.

Eponine even learns to relax without the funerals and they go to less. Instead Eponine becomes a regular in Cosette’s home. She learns to love her father’s cooking even if it isn’t the best. For a while Eponine is happy even through her grimace and dark eyeliner. 

Summer fades into fall and the girls share their first kiss. It’s a simple thing - chaste and quick and the best thing either of them have experienced. Before long they hold hands in the park and Eponine lays in Cosette’s lap while they lounge in the cemeteries. It’s the most satisfying relationship that Eponine has ever had and she almost forgets about Cosette’s death sentence. 

Almost.

It’s mid October when Cosette’s sickness takes over full force and she spends her time in bed near the large window in her room. 

“Eponine will you look at me?” she asks quietly, trying to distract the other girl from the book of poetry she’d been reading aloud for the past hour. “Eponine you knew this would happen.”

“How can you be so calm!” Eponine finally breaks and angry tears bite at her eyes. “Maybe two months. Not even definitely two months. Maybe!” She throws the book onto the foot of Cosette’s bed with an angry huff. “This… this isn’t fair!”

Cosette, with all the strength she can manage, hold her arms up. Eponine sighs and curls up into Cosette’s welcome arms. Their bodies mold together despite the various IVs in her arms. Cosette runs her fingers through Eponine’s hair, humming lightly as the other girl sobs. “Remember when I told you that living is the hardest thing you can do? I lied. Leaving you is proving to be much harder.”

—

Cosette makes it three months. 

Cosette’s father claps Eponine on her shoulder and allows her to fold into his open arms. He’s so large and so strong and Eponine needs a hug. The small girl managed to make it longer than the doctors expected. It wasn’t until Eponine quietly begged her to stop fighting and just let go did she finally pass on. 

It had been the least selfish thing she’d ever done.

The man, Jean, untangles his arms from around her and wipes a stray tear from her cheek. His eyes are red from crying, but he has a smile on his face. It’s eerily similar to the smiles she saw at the very memorial where she met Cosette. 

“How can you be happy?”

“I’m not happy, not for me at least,” Jean begins, pushing his hands into his pockets. “But it’s easier to go on knowing that she’s not in pain anymore.”

Eponine is silent, trying her best to quell the anger she feels. His excuse is so cliche and Eponine hates it. She hates everything from the flowers to the priest to the clouds overhead and especially the bright purple dress she’d chose for the occasion.

“Did she ever tell you about last time things got bad?”

Eponine shakes her head, still determined to stare straight ahead and be the stone she trained herself to be.

“Her friends were dying and I think she was ready to go too. I think she just wanted to give up. I’d never seen her like that before.” Jean sighs and even Eponine can tell that the memory is hard. “Then she came home from another funeral with the biggest smile on her face because she’d met a new friend and I thought she needed that. When she finally brought you around I saw that maybe you needed it too.”

She shares another hug with the man before he excuses himself to go speak to the priest. Eponine hugs her coat tighter and hikes her bag further onto her shoulder before she backs away from the scene. She disappears amongst the tombstones and trees until she finds the familiar tree she shared so many moments with Cosette under. The leaves are missing - long gone because of the cold. 

Accepting that everything had to die was almost too much for her.

Eponine pawed at her face, wiping away the rest of her tears. With a heavy huff, she sat down in the familiar spot and opened her bag. She pulled out Cosette’s sketchbook - the only thing she’d taken from the girl’s room after her death. Eponine angrily flipped through the pages, frowning with each drawing of a child or a bird or the flowers that Cosette liked to grow. When she turned to the last page, she nearly tossed the book aside; at least until she saw Cosette’s delicate scrawl.

_Eponine  
Thank you for giving me a reason to fight - a reason to hold on a little bit longer. You’re going to be sad and you’re going to hate everything but just remember how much I care for you. I will always care for you. You’re the strongest person. I know and that’s why you must live - keep living for me. ___

__She ran her fingers over the writing, imagining Cosette jotting it down in her sick bed. As much as it hurt it was the only catharsis that she needed._ _

__The acceptance washed over her and she sighed before digging through her bag for a pencil. She was no Cosette, but she had always wanted to learn to draw._ _


End file.
